Noel awoke to the golden warmth of morning light spilling through the large arched window. A soft breeze slipped past the slightly open pane, rustling the curtains and carrying with it the faint scent of pine and distant smoke from the kitchens.
His body still ached a little from the sparring the day before, but it was the thoughts in his head that weighed more than his limbs.
'The Hunt of Inheritance…'
That's what it was called. Not a game, not a seasonal outing. It was a centuries-old tradition that served as both spectacle and proving ground. Each year, one of the great noble houses of Valor would host it in a designated territory, and their heirs—young and ambitious—would be thrown into a controlled wilderness to face magical beasts and each other.
A ritual of power. Of pride. Of blood.
'In the novel, House Lestaria took the win. Elena shined the brightest… Marcus was the underdog that came close. The Thorne name? It was an afterthought.'
